


Playlist: a generic julangst thing,, that I didn't finish but who's surprised

by MxThmxNn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Langst, Other, Pining, Platonic Allurance, allurance, canonverse, klance, klangst, platonic klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxThmxNn/pseuds/MxThmxNn
Summary: Let's hope I can keep this up for the entire month but here's a compilation of short (some are longer than others) langst fics (loosely) based off of songs! By the end of the month there should be a decent playlist of songs that remind you of this sad, sad boy.  (There is no running story and each song is kinda its own AU. This means some established relationships vary from chapter to chapter)
Relationships: Allura/Lance (Voltron), Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	1. 7/1/2020

**Author's Note:**

> I have very basic and pedestrian music tastes so the actual playlist probably will not slap lmao. Also, my writing is again, very mediocre so lower those expectations whoever's reading this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: addiction  
> song: https://youtu.be/mFxq7Mb96b0  
> AU: canonverse   
> Ship: Klance (implied)

Song: Happy Pills, Weathers

_ “Love my girl, but she ain’t worth the price. _ ”

The glass bottle rattled when shaken. Inside were tiny white tablets inscribed with a language Lance couldn’t read. 

“Thanks, Coran,” Lance says excitedly, messing with the lid and walking away. The Blue Paladin entered back into his room and sat down on his bed. He twisted the red cap off the bottle and poured a tablet into his hand, remembering the mustached man’s words.

_ “Remember, these are much stronger than any mood medicines you have back on Earth. Take one at a time and it will get you happier than a child in a Juniberry field. Be careful, they can cause a man to-” _

“What could go wrong?”

Lance took the tablet and the world around him bloomed in beautiful colors. Lights were brighter, smiles were wider, fruits were sweeter and Lance could honestly forget what life was like before his new life on the Altean medicine. Everything was so much clearer without storms of depressive tendencies encapsulating his mind. The team definitely like this Lance much better, a win-win. A new and improved Lance McClain, it seemed like everything was getting better. And everything was better... until the side effects began to kick in.

If you asked him a month ago, the Blue Paladin would admit to only taking one every few weeks. The castle’s medicine cabinet was stocked full of these forgotten little tablets that only Lance ever seemed to need. Currently, those shelves began to empty within days. One at a time was now five at a time. Everyone began to notice how often Lance slipped away to “go to the bathroom” or “blow his nose” during training sessions and meetings. How often he’d switch from an energetic and happy Lance to an angry, disheveled one. And definitely how tired he was all the time, clearly not sleeping or eating, or doing anything besides taking those stupid little pills. Rings formed around his eyes and his body was always shaky, but he was happy. So happy.

But enough was definitely enough. It was enough when Keith barged into his room that night. 

“Oh, hey buddy-” Lance said, mouth stuffed.

Keith didn’t say anything. He just grabbed Lance’s face using both hands and stared straight into his soul. Lance looked up, attempting to meet his gaze, but couldn’t hold eye contact as his vision of Keith began to double. 

“Spit them out. Now,” Keith said, tightening his grip on Lance’s face. Lance groaned and attempted to mouth a “no” through puckered lips and his eyebrows furrowed in protest. “Lance.” The Red Paladin tipped his face forward, causing Lance to spit up all of the tablets at once, coughing violently. Keith’s hands were immediately torn away from the Cuban boy’s face as Lance kept a tight grip on his wrists. 

“Keith, what the fuck?” Lance cried. “I need those,” he mumbled frantically scooping the tablets up from his lap. 

Keith looked on in utter disgust as he watched Lance try to shove all of the antidepressants back into his mouth desperately. Naturally, Keith refused to let Lance do this to himself, and wrestled the younger boy to prevent him from taking any more. 

Lance clearly didn’t get it. Everyone liked him better on the meds, not taking them meant going back to the old, shitty, depressed, Lance that nobody needed to see. But here was his rival, trying to stop him from taking the one thing that would keep him sane. He didn’t get it.

Keith eventually gave up fighting. Lance at this point was a lost cause. 

“Forget it, Lance.”

His words rang in Lance’s ears every day and the look of disgust on his face that night when Keith left his room branded his soul. Those violet eyes cursing his dreams and the silhouette standing in the doorway flashing behind his eyelids. Every single day from that night on. The night he was left there, the night Coran deemed him incapacitated and unable to fight, the day he was put on bed rest for at least a year. The day that his dependence on the tiny white tablets in a glass jar covered in words he couldn’t read went too far and became his lifeline.  _ He should’ve listened. _


	2. 7/2/2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: eating disorder/body image issues  
> song: https://youtu.be/dc6SSu5pnHw  
> AU: canonverse/none  
> Ship: none

_ “If I get more pretty, do you think he will like me?” _

  
  


“Handsome.”

“Pretty boy.”

“Ladies’ man.”

Compliments got to his head pretty easily, no doubt about it. It would get to anyone, especially the team’s loverboy. Lance was extremely determined to keep this up, at  _ all _ costs.

He stared at his body in the mirror for hours, unblemished caramel colored skin adorned his frame. His limbs were lean and graceful, dollike even. From childhood the Blue Paladin was constantly complimented on his physique, only complimented for his physique. To him, looks were his only solid quality and protecting it was on his mind all the time. Lance looked back up to his face, sparkly blue eyes and a charming smile. Or, that’s the Lance that everyone else saw.

The Lance in the mirror was somebody else. A boy with protruding ribs and stringy hair that fell limp and loose. A smile filled with eroding teeth, but anything for that body. Right? Only he knew the price of beauty. The price of  _ his  _ beauty. He wanted everyone to marvel at the sparkle serums and creams put back into his skin but not the lackluster gray tint that began to overtake him. He wanted the galaxy to comment on his bird-like structure and toned legs, but not the consistent lethargy.

“ _ When you’re pretty, others take care of you _ ,” He thinks. Lance thinks a lot about his body. 

And his body does lots of things, like spending hours bent over the space toilet, and hours refusing the food goo during dinner. Not like it was any good. His hands frantically scrawling things he ate on paper. Bones ground against each other and muscles stretched and strained to keep up with meticulous training. Or perhaps pushing in on his stomach after a shower and obsessively checking the circumference of his wrists.

His hard work pays off. Pays off in looks from pretty girls. It pays off in aid from stronger men. Girls look on enviously, and he’s always needing help. Help getting up off the floor, help after injuries in battle, but Lance just saw it as the attention from the universe he craved. An excuse to flirt. Something.

And nobody noticed. He was just ‘Lance being Lance’, the prettiest boy in the universe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl not happy with this one smh... it's barely a fic but y'know


	3. 7/3/2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: substance use, homophobia/f-slur, mild violence
> 
> song: https://youtu.be/AAFt9bMoKhs
> 
> AU: late high school  
> Ship: Klance (kinda) Allurance (mentioned)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little longer for today, kinda got carried away but it's cool. (also I don't really support McCafferty as much as I enjoy their songs as it just so happens to be that the frontman is a trash person on numerous levels and the band broke up in January)

Song: Beachboy, McCafferty

_“I don’t get parties, or getting high. I just get low most of the time.”_

Parties. Blasted bass, fairy lights, too much alcohol, the whole list of illicit substances, and somebody else’s house. It’s everyone’s highschool fantasy, unless you are Keith Kogane.

Keith was currently slouching over in a corner, avoiding any human contact. A girl in his math class asked him to be her “plus one” so she could get in. In hindsight, this was a huge mistake but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do on a Friday night. Said girl was currently drinking her makeup off and dancing on some jock from another school. Not that he could care, and not that anybody would notice him. 

“I should leave,” He muttered to himself and stood up properly, finishing the shitty alcohol in his cup before the ice melted fully and set it on the floor behind him. He squeezed is way through the bustling crowd of his intoxicated peers to the front of the house and slipped out the door. The air outside was freezing compared to the inside of the house, but the leather jacket on his back got him covered. The moon was covered by thick clouds, making the night atmosphere even darker. 

Normally, Keith would hop straight on his bike and ditch the place, but he had the urge to stay a few minutes and enjoy the quiet night outside the house. He leaned against his motorcycle and absentmindedly stared at the edges of his steel-toed boots. Rock music played softly in his headphones as he chipped at the remnants of black nail polish on the edges of his fingernails. 

Suddenly, Keith heard crying in the night. It startled him. Keith stepped forward and walked back towards the house to the source of the commotion. The cacophony of sobs got louder as he approached the porch. A couple of football guys had somebody pinned under them, illuminated by the orange porch lamp. The teen watched as the person’s tanned limbs flailed out from underneath, letting out drunken sobs.

“Please, please, no my mom can’t find out. She’d kill me!” he sobbed. Two guys, Haxus and some other dude from the football team just looked at each other and sneered. When one of them put his hand up the boy’s shirt Keith immediately stepped in. 

“Hey! What the fuck?” Keith shouted, clenching his fists. “C’mon dude, Haxus, and- Who is that?- Rolo? What would Shiro think if I told him about this?”

“Piss off Kogane, let us have some fun. And when do you care about anyone other than yourself, much less this fucking fag you don’t even know?” Haxus sneered. “Just because your brother’s coach doesn’t mean we’re allowed to take shit from shitbags like you.” He continued his grip on the boy’s neck, holding him down as the hem of his shirt was pulled up to his collarbone. Disgusting hands began prodding at the boy’s body. Rolo pulled his phone out and began filming.

That didn’t last very long. 

“Shit, Keith what the hell-” Haxus exclaimed as Keith pulled him by the collar of his letterman jacket and began pummeling. Sure, the dude was probably twice his body weight but everyone knew Keith put up a good fight. Rolo tried to pull him away from his comrade, instead he got a swift kick to the kneecaps and fell over. 

“Go!” Keith strained, barely getting to look at the kid’s face. The lean boy scrambled up on his feet, hopping over the guard rail. Keith motioned his head over to where his motorcycle stood on the curb, the kid understood, and drunkenly ran into the night. “Don’t worry about me.”

Naturally, a fight caused an audience to watch Keith beat the shit out of football players for nearly ten minutes. 

“That emo kid is doing it!”

“I heard he only transferred to Marmora because he got expelled from the Garrison freshman year.”

“Is that the guy you came here with?”

“Hey, that’s my boyfriend!” A blonde girl piped up, forcing her way through the sea of onlookers, dropping the bottle in her hand. “Let go, freak.”

And that was when the fight ended, when Haxus’ girlfriend screamed at Keith to get off him, weakly trying to push at Keith. He looked back up at her and wiped the blood that began to pool above his lip using his glove.

“Gladly.” He said, staring into her soul. Keith got up and checked his pockets before simply disappearing in the night and leaving this stupid party behind. 

To his surprise, the kid from earlier was still sitting on the sidewalk, curled into himself. 

“Hey,” Keith said, putting his hand on the kid’s back. He jolted at his touch and looked up at Keith with startling blue eyes, red and strained around the edges. “You good man? I never caught your name-”

“Lance. It’s Lance.” he said weakly. “You?”

“Name’s Keith.”

“Keith?”

“Yeah, is there something about it?”

Lance sighed and laid back on the concrete. “No, just a little familiar.” Keith hummed and sat down next to him. “Hey, why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Keith responded, staring blankly at the glittering asphalt. 

“Save me. Why’d you do that? You don’t know me, so why would you beat up some guys for me?” Keith turned over to look at Lance, bathed in moonlight, skin painted shades of blue.

“Simple. My brother can get them in trouble, he’s football coach. And I heard that conversation, I can’t let those boneheads beat up and molest any more gay kids,” He explained. “I don’t want to see anyone end up like _me._ ” Distant memories rolled behind his eyelids.

Lance sat back up, the scent of regret and smoke wafted off his clothes. “ _Gay?_ I’m not _gay_ like that. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Then what were they on your ass for?”

“Dunno, I like getting drunk and having fun. I mean, I wouldn’t be at this dumb party if I didn’t. You like drinking?”

“No, I gave a girl a free ride and an entry ticket, I’m not into this stuff. Normally I have a few sips and leave.”

Lance turned his head back to the sky, focusing on a gap in the clouds. “Basically,” his voice trembled, “ A game of spin the bottle and a lot of Bacardi can’t end well, ended up full kissing that quarterback guy. Maybe it looked like I was enjoying it a little too much.” Some tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, drawing a clear path through his freckles. Regret manifested in his voice. Keith almost said something but he saw Lance suck in a breath. “I broke up with my girlfriend before that too, a guy can’t catch a break.” 

“Shit,” Keith breathed. “I got a question for you in return,”

“Why?” Lance interrupted. “Nobody needs to know about me.”

“I wasn’t going to ask anything that deep, just your address.” Keith responded, eyeing the body of his motorcycle. “You’re too drunk to drive home, you didn’t drive here did you?”

“No. Girlfriend-Ex Girlfriend took me.”

“Okay, so about that-”

“Don’t take me home. I don’t want my mom or my kid siblings to know about this. Not the alcohol or the weed, not where I’ve been. _They expect that from me_ . Kissing boys, is not a normal thing to them, who knows what my father will do with that- probably beat me worse than _whatshisface_ did. They’re disappointed, but I’m sure being a narc isn’t helping.” Lance began sobbing, his cries swallowed by the empty lot around the house.

Keith cradled his chin in his hands, taking a second to think. A strong breeze hit and Lance was shivering to the bone in his printed tee-shirt. Keith took off his jacket and threw it at the skinny boy next to him. 

“It’s seen better days. Sorry about that.”

“No. Keep it, I’m not going with you,” he slurred. “I’ll find someone to go home with, it’s embarrassing to be the most popular guy at school riding home with some loner kid from some other school,” His voice trailed off.

“My, my, my, I didn’t know you were some big shot,” Keith said sarcastically, trying to bring up the mood. “What school?”

“Garrison.”

“I went there for a while, got kicked out for punching someone, and the rest is history,” Keith said, getting up to wrap his jacket around Lance’s shoulders. His attention was on his phone, the wired headset crumpled under it in the palm of his hand.

Lance shifted, accepting the warmth around his shoulders and taking in the smell of Keith’s jacket, unaffected by the toxic smells of the house. “Really, I should go back to the party, maybe if I have another drink and dance on a couple girls I can make everyone forget this. I’m not some sad fuck who can’t take a little bullying.” He had difficulty standing, but eventually made his way back up. 

Keith couldn’t bear watching this kid trip over his feet, making the walk of shame back to his classmate’s house. 

“Lance,” he called. No response “Lance come back,” he called again, raising his voice.

The drunken acquaintance stuck his hand up to the sky and gave Keith the middle finger as he slowly advanced towards the house. “I don’t need you…” he paused, “I don’t need you, Keith!”

“Seriously don’t go back there, my brother said you can stay the night,” He shouted, pointing at his phone. Lance didn’t listen. “They’re not going to forget, Lance!” Lance stopped walking. “Listen, dude, sophomore me made enough mistakes to tell you this. You are going to get hell if you walk back into that house. I swore that by senior year that I wouldn’t let anybody have to see whatever the hell I did. If you really need a drink my brother’s got something at home but please, don’t do it.” His voice strained with anger. 

“Keith, I don’t need your weird hero complex right now.” Lance let the jacket slip off his shoulders and resume walking. 

As much as Keith would like to scoop him back up, carry him back to his bike and ride off into the city to his apartment to take care of him, that’s not how this one ended. Perhaps he stepped too far into this kid’s boundaries, he is just some pretty stranger after all. Just another one of those people who’d like to lose their weekends to a lawless paradise. And with that, Keith Kogane and a boy named Lance never crossed paths again. Although, he’d like to believe that the could run into each other someday.


	4. 7/4/2020 (sorry for the late post ;w;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: not much, mentions of war  
> song: https://youtu.be/-gcs_wyw5s0
> 
> AU: canonverse
> 
> Ship: Lotura, Allurance (sorry?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha all my writing is exactly the same so I did my best to try something a little different and more subtle. Also yesterday's was late because I just plain forgot lmao, so a double post today.

7/4/2020

Song: Seventeen, Marina and the Diamonds

_ “Could never tell you what happened the day I turned seventeen” _

  
  


Lance knocked on the door with his free hand, waiting for confirmation to enter. He heard no noise and slid it open anyways. In his other hand was a tray with some food goo and a glass of water, it was his turn to tend to the prince.

“Knock knock. Here’s the food Allura wanted to bring you,” He said dryly. He tried keeping his head down but he ended up accidentally making eye contact with the person across the room. His reptile-like glare shot chills down Lance’s spine, but he tried not to admit that to anyone.

“Thank you, you can just leave the tray over there,” Lotor replied, pointing at a table protruding from the wall. 

Lance always found Lotor’s voice clawing, how smooth it was, but he complied. They were supposed to be allies after all.

“Whatever,  _ your highness _ ,” he answered sarcastically, maybe too sarcastically. “I’ll leave and come by later to collect your trash.” 

“Ah, are you too good to converse with the prince of the Galra empire?” Lotor mused.

“What?”

The prince let out a laugh. “I jest, paladin. My stance of nobility holds no worth under my father’s rule. I am an ally to Voltron.” Lotor stood from his seated position.

Lance chuckled nervously, every muscle in his body tensing under his armor. He stiffly rotated on his heels to face Lotor. He stared down at the prince’s pristine boots. “You,” he hesitated, “You realize you are still our prisoner right? Just because everyone else blindly trusts you doesn’t mean I have to. How do I know that you’re not going to kill me, or worse, Allura?”

Lotor sighed, running a hand through his silver hair. His posture was relaxed, nonthreatening, however Lance was still on edge. “Me? Kill? I’d never revert to my father’s barbaric ways, but I understand why you’re uneasy. I mean no harm, simply just requesting some company. But you’re right; you have no reason to comply.” 

The smooth words snaked around Lance’s head. As much as he hated the prince, he was  _ very _ good at persuasion. But he decided that refusing was his best bet.

“I still don’t trust that you’re not a murderer. Besides, I don’t think that I need to be conversing with  _ prisoners.  _ I don’t get why we need to constantly pander to you _ , _ ” He reported with a hushed tone. He watched as a smirk move it’s way onto Lotor’s face. The prince set his lavender hands on his hips and looked down at Lance with confidence. His persistent stare coerced Lance into meeting his eyes once again.

“I wonder what Allura would say, hearing you say these things. You earthlings are rather defiant of you,” Lotor said, stepping towards Lance.

The words began to echo within Lance’s mind. His breathing quickened and his chest tightened further. The corners of his lips turned down slightly and his throat became dry. “What does the princess have to do with this?” he asked quietly. Lance was always defensive of the princess, this was no exception. Lance blinked hard and did his best to maintain eye contact.

“Simple, I just don’t understand how the princess of Altea sees in the paladins, especially you,” Lotor replied cooly. 

“What are you getting at, man?”

“She still perceives me as a threat when we are one in the same, Altean nobility. However, she’s dependent on  _ you _ to help take down my father. Foolish. With my help Voltron could easily overthrow the Galra, but your team is reliant on inexperienced children from a planet with no prowess.” Lance began backing up slightly. Lotor’s words began crawling under his skin, ringing in his ears.

“Do,” the red paladin hesitated, “Do not call Allura foolish. Ever. And inexperienced? Do you know the shit I’ve seen? Hm? I was  _ barely _ seventeen when I got thrown into a war. You have no idea what that does to someone.” Lance’s eyelid began twitching. “I started this whole thing, I dragged Keith, Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, everyone into this war. I piloted the lion to Arus and caused this whole stupid conundrum. I will never get to walk happily on the Cuban coastline again. I forced everyone to abandon everything based of my stupid mistake. I’ll never get to be a normal kid again, man. I had it all, friends, good grades, a perfect family back home.” Lotor kept that god-awful smirk on his face as he heard Lance’s slowly begin breaking.

“Save the autobiography,” he sighed. Lotor let out a giggle and lowered his stance down to the paladin’s level. Strands of hair fell over his face, covering one of his eyes. “Are you sure that’s experience? I’ve been exiled from my own family, denied my birthrights, seen ten thousand years of war and slaughter under my father’s rule. I’ve been seeing horrors beyond your worst imagination and led wars spanning several of your lifetimes over,” he sneered. Shadows caused by the overhead lights created monstrous circles under his eyes and strongly outlined the creases at the corners of his lips, giving him a monstrous smile. “Face it, _ boy _ , you’re not worthy of being among Allura’s ranks.”

Lance began backing up towards the door, unsurprisingly, the prince just followed his steps. “Like I keep asking, what the hell does the princess have to do with any of your weird mind games?”

“It’s simple. I can sense that she has a weird affinity for you, and it’s hindering her plans. I need to get her away from  _ this _ ,” he motioned his hand out, presumably referring to the castle. “Us alone-”

“Wait does she have a thing for  _ me _ specifically, or is it like the whole team? ‘Cause if it’s me then I actually might have a shot. Sweet.” Lance interrupted, counting on his fingers, pseudo-calculating  _ something _ .

The silver-haired man sucked in a breath, presumably collecting himself before speaking. “Before you so rudely interrupted, if it were just us alone this war would easily be over. Voltron is just a tool, a blueprint might I say for something much better. But I don’t need anyone meddling in private matters, so I will keep it at that.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Am I?”

“I’ll tell everyone. I’ll expose you as the creep you are.”

“That’s not going to work.”

“Of course it will.”

Lotor advanced forward, his chestplate almost pushing into Lance’s, holding him to the door. “You said it yourself, the team trusts me. I bet they even see me as more credible than you are. Think about it, you’re the one who will sound insane. Tell me if you think this sounds right: You, the airheaded team jokester with nothing but a mediocre shot and ludicrous ideas poses to a team of your colleagues that I, their most important ally in the fight against Zarkon, is a ‘creep’ as you put it. Perhaps I might hurt your precious damsel in distress, or use you just to step over you in the end. The team will just think you’re projecting your own insecurities on them, _ like you always do. _ Believe me, I’ve seen it.”

“Shut up,” Lance choked out, trying not to cry.  _ Lotor was right.  _ Everything he’s been saying was true but Lance didn’t want to listen to it.  _ How was this guy so good at getting in his head? _ Lance knew that Lotor was good at manipulation, he grew up under the rule of a downright dictator and managed to survive over ten-thousand years in a society full of sketchy people. But there was something about his creepy alien stare.

Lotor opened his mouth to speak again when an announcement from Coran was sent through the speaker in the room. It was something about needing all paladins to the control room. Perfect timing. The prince immediately retreated to a casual four feet away from Lance. The paladin took a couple seconds to breathe deeply before speaking.

“How long has it been?”

“Approximately ten doboshes.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, that is, if you keep that irritating mouth shut.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Lance stepped out the room and made sure to give Lotor his most intimidating death glare through the door before running down to the first floor.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for once it's not just Lance focused klangst lol


	5. 7/5/2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: probably nothing, maybe a little internalized homophobia but honestly not that angsty
> 
> song: https://youtu.be/xqwwkETs4TU
> 
> AU: Garrison, pre-Kerberos  
> Ship: Klance

7/5/2020

Song: I Wanna Boi, PWR BTTM

_ “I wanna boy who isn’t anything like me.” _

Unsurprisingly, he’s up late at night again. Normally, Lance didn’t have difficulty sleeping, especially when he had class in the morning, but something was off tonight. He couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head.

“Hunk?” he asked. No reply. “Hunk, buddy, dude, my guy?” he asked again, met with more silence. Lance decided to take some initiative and rolled off the side of his bed. His bare feet met the cold vinyl floor, sending chills throughout his body. He took some steps forward to the other side of the dorm room, over to his roommate’s bed. 

Moonlight from the window scattered across the room, highlighting the sleeping figure. Lance reached his hand out to nudge Hunk’s shoulder, gently at first then more impatiently. 

“Wake up, dude, wake up, wake up!” Lance whisper-yelled. The big man rolled over and slowly opened his eyes. He slowly rolled his eyes to see Lance up at his side. A look of immediate shock overcame him, but he knew better than to scream.

“Lance,” Hunk yawned, “I’m not down to go into the city tonight,” he continued groggily. 

“No, no we’re not going girl hunting tonight,” Lance whispered. “Just do me a favor, okay?”

Hunk sat up in his bed, rubbing at his temples through his hair. “A favor, again at,” he looked at the clock, “Three in the morning? You owe me big time.” 

Maybe Lance asks him for too many favors, but he could always trust his best friend. The blue-eyed boy let out a sigh, like he was holding his breath in with anticipation. “Dude, you’re too good for me.”

“Oh, I know. But that’s what I’m here for, I guess,” Hunk whispered. “What do you want me to do? I mean I’ll do it if it’s not-”

“Illegal, going to get me or you expelled, or something that causes harm to us or anyone else, I know,” Lance continued. These were the few rules of the ‘bro code’ the pair had established at the start of the semester. 

Hunk smiled a little and looked at Lance. “So, this favor is?”

“Not much, tell admiral that my mom called me all night and so if I ditch class, that’s why. ‘M having trouble sleeping and I have a feeling that if I do pass out it might be in the middle of class.”

“Hm, I’ll see what I can do, but you really need to stop dipping out of class. Is it because of Keith?”

“I knew you’d be there for me- Wait, what does knife boy have to do with this?” Just the mention of the kid’s name caused Lance to freeze in place. “No really, what does  _ he _ have to do with me wanting to cut class?”

“Dude, did you even remember how he destroyed you in Air Mechanics? He said a sentence and roasted you to a crisp. I get it dude, embarrassing.” Hunk whispered.

It took Lance a second to remember what happened exactly, but then the events came to mind. “Well, I guess. You saw how Alexa was  _ all over him _ after that.” He could feel his face getting hot. “He knows that I like her, he is so totally trying to ask her out, but only because I want to. That dude is always in my business, and he can’t even remember my name!”

“Maybe he likes you.”

“What?”

“What? Whatever dude, I’m going to sleep. If I happen to catch admiral Jin in the hallway before class I’ll tell him. Of course If you feel like skipping later. Good night, Lance.”

“Night,” Lance replied. He walked back over to his bed and listened to it creak as he crawled back in. He laid flat on his back and stared directly up at the ceiling. “ _ Maybe he likes you, _ ” He repeated to himself. The concept of the phrase swirled around in his head, the thoughts circled back to what happened in class that day. 

\---

“Pshh, I can reach it. I don’t need a stupid step stool,” Lance mused as he tried his best to reach a textbook from the top shelf. A couple of kids looked nervous, some were laughing. Sure, with a lot of straining, pinching, and grabbing, Lance got the book. Or at least he got it to fall, along with everything on top of it.

Before the sea of five pound hardcover books could rain down on him, an arm went around his waist and pulled him out of the way. His heart began fluttering and his face turned a little red. Lance turned to look who it was.  _ Not this guy again. _ It was Keith. He was sitting down at his desk, pretending nothing happened, his stupid mullet covering his eyes. 

“Anything to say, weirdo?” Laughs from the class faded into the background.

“No.” He was clearly focused on his worksheet, filling out answers with a broken pencil. “Actually, maybe try to follow the rules next time and use a chair like the rest of us,” he answered, dry and monotone. 

“I-” he hesitated as the laughing got louder. “Whatever.” Lance walked away to the other side of the room to his desk right at the front. He looked back for a second just to see a sliver of a smile on Keith’s face.  _ Bastard _ . 

“Cadet McClain,” the teacher called. “See me after class and we’ll discuss this.”

“Yessir.”

Lance glanced back to see Alexa trying to talk to Keith. Her blonde hair falling over her shoulder in a specific way, her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh my god, you were so cool!” she fawned. 

He seemed totally disinterested, head down, still scribbling his answers on the page in rushed font. 

“She should be telling  _ me _ that I was cool. Stupid Keith,” he muttered to himself.” 

\---

Lance blinked back to reality and thought a little harder about it. Playing the scene in his head over and over. He shuffled under the blanket a little bit and tried to figure out what about that made him so mad. It’s not the laughing, he’s the class clown. It’s not Alexa, no, he was used to getting turned down. Girl after girl.  _ It was the smile _ .

That stupid smile stuck to his memory, he wanted to see it over and over again. But why? Keith was only ever there to one up him, in class, tests, even the girls Lance liked seemed to pick that loser. It wasn’t fair, he never picked them back. Lance was supposed to hate Keith, why was he so obsessed with everything he does. Every girl he says he misses, the only memories he has of them are of when Keith was there. His annoying smug smile, he never smiles, just around Lance. All of this, is it really to spite him or? 

Lance groaned and thrashed around a little more, blankly staring at the back of Hunk’s head.

_ “Maybe he likes you.” _ Those four words kept coming back to him. And that’s when it hit him. Perhaps all this time he had no hatred for the lone wolf after all. Maybe all he wanted to do was to see him smile again, maybe have him save him from some falling books again.

No. Lance liked making jokes with his friends and being clingy and affectionate. But he couldn’t let anyone know that he always had a little thing for guys as well. He groaned again, trying to find a comfortable spot on his pillow so that he could try and get at least an hour of sleep. Alas, no relief. 

“I-I guess I’m bi?” he whispered to himself. His hands started to shake a little at the words and some involuntary tears slipped out from the corner of eyes. But it felt good to get something off his chest, maybe he could finally sleep-

_ “What would mom and dad think?”  _ he thought. Damnit.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even a week in and I'm already not into my writing smhhhh.
> 
> Also, I'm not too familiar with the artist however, I have heard some allegations that they're problematic but I don't know.


	6. 7/6-7/2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: death/suicide, parental issues, alcohol mention
> 
> song: https://youtu.be/F0xdQ8ES9fc
> 
> AU: Ghost Lance, Keith's house is haunted  
> Ship: Klance (platonic or romantic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not that good with deadlines so please enjoy this s u p e r long chapter

Song: Arms Tonite, Mother Mother

_“And hey, you, don’t you think it’s kinda cute? That I died, right inside your arms tonight.”_

Keith’s house is severely haunted, but he knew that from the start. It’s not like he could talk to the ghosts in there or anything, but they were definitely there. He sees people sitting in his chair that vanish in a flash, never the same person twice. They like rummaging through his drawers at night. And he hears unintelligible conversations. He supposes that’s what he gets for living in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, completely alone. Keith is pretty sure he can’t communicate with these ghosts at all. Or that’s what he thought.

With the blazing afternoon sun on his back, he wanted, no needed to get home. He was barely a mile away from his house but, he was getting impatient. Keith grit his teeth as sweat poured down his forehead; he hit the gas a little harder and sped home with his groceries. He took off his helmet and shook out his hair when he got home. He caught a quick glance at his house and saw someone sitting on the railing of his front porch. A young man, probably his age with short hair and a baseball shirt with plain jeans. He sat there kicking his feet and staring at the ground. It could always be an apparition, but from this distance, he couldn’t tell.

“Hey! You, get off my property!” he yelled. No response. The guy just sat there. Keith was sure that this was definitely just another one-off spirit sighting, and he’d go away. He kept his head down walking up to his house with the canvas bag in his hands. Keith walked quickly to minimize the time he spent outside, even with sunscreen on, he’d get burned. He quickly turned his head up to check his progress. To his surprise, the guy on his railing was still there, still kicking his feet. He was humming a faint tune and his hair looked sopping wet. At this point Keith was convinced some kid decided today was a good day to trespass, as he’s never seen the spirits in his house for longer than a second. That is until Keith saw that the surrounding area around him was totally dry, there was something up with him.

“Hey,” he tried again. “You lost or something-” Keith stopped mid sentence when his eyes were met with the boy’s. His eyes were wide open with shock, like he had no knowledge that there was someone there at all. Keith was definitely a little spooked. There was something about the guy’s eye color that pierced into his soul. They were blue, but not the kind of blue that Keith has seen on anyone before, they were a dark blue, like the color of storm clouds. And his face looked eternally sad, heavy undereye bags and downturned lips. 

“No, I’m not lost,” He replied. Keith must’ve had some look on his face when he set down the bag of groceries. The stranger began chuckling a little. He turned his attention back to the empty lot that preceded Keith’s house. 

If Keith was able to talk he’d tell the kid off for being on his property knowing there is literally nobody within a ten mile radius of his house in the middle of the desert. He tried his best to keep his composure as he snuck up behind the trespasser. He placed his hands on the guy’s shoulderblades so he could swiftly push him of the rails. Keith followed through but quickly realized that his hands passed straight through. He quickly jumped back in shock.

“What? Never seen a ghost before? Your house is like super haunted if you didn’t know,” the young man laughed.

“I know my house is haunted,” Keith stammered. “I just don’t talk to them and they don’t talk to me.”

“Seriously? That’s lame.”

“So, why are you in my house?” Keith asked apprehensively.

“I-I don’t know. I just died ‘M pretty sure,” he replied. 

Keith stopped to think, trying to compose himself. “Before I ask how, or even why, can I get your name?”

“The name’s Lance, I think.”

“You think?”

“Jeez,” Lance sighed. “For a dude in a haunted house you know jack shit about ghosts. Most of us sever connections to our past life when we die, of course not completely, but I don’t have much from like a week before I died. Oh, and I think I drowned in the lake a few miles down from here.”

“Makes sense,” Keith muttered. He couldn’t stop staring at Lance. “You wanna, come inside? It’s really hot out here.”

“No, no, I can wait out here for you. It’s really cold in there,” Lance replied. “I’m kinda stuck dripping in lake water, forever.”

“Right.” Keith returned. He set the entire bag inside the refrigerator and stepped back outside. Lance was now standing in the corner, waiting patiently. “You good?”

“Yeah, I keep trying to remember why I got stuck here,” He said pacing side to side on his feet. “I think I have an idea on what happened.” Keith watched a slight triumphant smile work it’s way onto the dead man’s face.

“Will it get you out my house?” Keith asked sarcastically, leaning his shoulder on the screen door. 

“What?” Lance asked back, fixating on the paint peeling off the siding. “Oh,” he sighed, “You want me to leave. I get that, my bad.” His head hung in defeat as he turned away and began floating away. A trail of water followed in his wake, saturating the parched ground. 

“Wait, no, come back. I didn’t mean it like that,” Keith stammered, reaching his hand out. “Seriously, man I wanna know.” Keith walked away from his door and tried to follow Lance into the desert before he went too far. 

Lance turned around and read the desperation on the other man’s face and stopped. “You sure?” 

“I mean, yeah. I was just going to work on my bike a little, there’s not much else I can do.”

Lance sighed again and gestured his hand out, permitting Keith to walk with him. Keith began to follow. “Clearly, there’s a lot to unpack here,” He laughed. 

“Yeah.” The sun began to set, causing the sky to set ablaze with color. The winds began picking up behind them.

“I failed a ton of my classes at school my senior year. Sure, I wouldn’t have been the first in my family to graduate but I’m pretty sure my parents would’ve liked their second eldest son to not turn out like his brother. I don’t quite remember what exactly he did, but it must’ve been pretty bad if they hated him so much,” The blue-eyed boy lamented. 

Keith couldn’t help but feel bad as he’d been in and out of schools his whole life. He was orphaned at a young age and had little to no guardianship throughout his life, his adoptive foster brother Shiro was living with his husband pretty far away, so here he was. He ran away before senior year, he ran until he found somewhere. That somewhere just so happened to be a spirit-infested hut with no people for miles. “What school? I know almost every one in this area, he asked.”

“The Galaxy Garrison, a military school. I was going to be a spacecraft pilot,” Lance looked longingly at the ground, frowning at what could’ve been. 

“Oh, that’s where I got sent for middle school and freshman year. I got expelled for fighting,” Keith recalled, running a hand through his mullet.

“Remember me?” Lance asked.

“No, but you remind me of a kid named Taylor.”

“Weird,” Lance chuckled a little bit. “But it gets worse; my dad he-” he hesitated. “He caught me drinking with some buddies that night and beat the ever living shit out of me and exiled me from my home. So I went for a drive.”

Keith was at a loss for words, but he was getting invested in Lance’s story. He had so many questions, but he knew asking would be rude. Of course, angering spirits is something Keith knew very well not to do. 

“No questions yet? You must be the quiet type,” Lance said, breaking the silence. 

“I guess,” Keith answered. “I just don’t want accidentally ask something disrespectful, the last time I did something like that I spent a month putting my roof back on. That’s also when I learned that I’m not very good at talking to the _guests_ in my house.” He turned to face Lance, seeing that smile on his face again.

“Your roof? That sucks.”

“Yeah, but you can keep going, it’s okay.”

“Really?” Keith gave the apparition a nod of confirmation. Lance ran his hand through his hair and paused to compose himself. “That drive, I was in a residential zone, by myself, in the car I _just_ got for my eighteenth birthday. Obviously, I wasn’t sober or anything and it was pretty dark so I got in a wreck. I fatally injured an old lady backing out of her parking lot. God, I didn’t know what I was doing.” Lance stopped pacing around, stopping just before the ground dipped. He looked up solemnly. “Before the cops came I just booked it. I ran for maybe 45 minutes straight and tripped into the lake I died in. I was a varsity swimmer, I could’ve gotten out but it was a little too late,” He explained. His voice was shaky and fearful, his eyes opened and his eyelids twitched. Keith stood there in anticipation. “It was too dark, I couldn’t see the edge of the land and just _gave up_. It’s not like anyone was waiting for me to come back. That’s the thing, after I let anybody down, they don’t ever want to be around me anymore,” He sobbed. Tear drops fell from his eyes at an inhuman rate, the edges of his transparent fingers began to drip a bit as well. 

Keith swallowed the lump in his throat, “ I-I don’t actually mind if you stay in my house. I’m used to it by now,” he said. He wished he knew how to respond to that a little better. Maybe it’s not the best place, and I really don’t know how to take care of-”

“No it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the passage of the dead. I woke up at your house and just watched a ton of people go in and out of it, like a train station. They stay there until something fulfills them and then they leave. I don’t know where,” Lance explained, trying to stay calm.

“Oh, cool. That probably explains the crazy energy that this place has. That’s also probably why they never talk to me. Because they don’t need me to fulfill them, it just so happens that they exist around my house. But I’m sure you’re not disruptive and I could always use someone to talk to,” He said, trying his best to be positive. He put his hand on the edge of Lance’s shoulder, his fingertips barely passing through. He felt a cold mist as the ghost’s shoulders began heaving again, and resumed crying. Lance’s cries were carried through the wind. And Keith stood there with his head down, as he could show no other signs of solidarity other than to listen. 

Lance stopped crying for a second and turned around to face Keith. “You should get home,” he whispered. He met Keith’s gaze once again with a slight smile.

“Are you coming with?”

“No, no really it’s fine,” he lamented. “I think this is the only gratification I need from here.” Lance raised both of his hands and motioned for Keith to hold them. 

He felt a little stupid lacing his fingers with the air but he did it anyways. A gentle breeze surrounded Keith. “I get that, but if you ever feel like coming back, you already know where to go,” He said gently. 

“Of course,” Lance said.

Keith stood there and waited until Lance began to fade, his presence exiting Keith’s conscience.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware of the metaphor behind this song but everything's up to interpretation lol. This is most definitely the longest oneshot I've ever written.


	7. 7/8/2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentioned parental issues, arguing  
> song: https://youtu.be/ghb6eDopW8I 
> 
> AU: High school  
> Ship: Klance (established)

7/8/2020

Song: Little Talks, Of Monsters and Men

_“Don’t listen to a word I say. Hey!”_

  
  


“Lance, your friend’s here!” Veronica shouts. Lance can hear her talk to whoever it was a little longer before shutting the door.

“Which friend?” Lance shouts through his door. “Veronica? Which one of my friends?” He returned dramatically. Lance was not expecting guests, especially this early. He rolled over on his bed anxiously and dropped his phone. He walked over to his door and opened it, expecting to meet whoever it was downstairs.

_Shit._

“Hi, Veronica said-”

Lance slammed the door shut immediately. Of all the people Lance wanted to see today it was absolutely, one-hundred-and-ten percent not Keith. After what happened last night at the football game, this was not it. 

Keith knocked on the door. “Lance, can I come in?”

“Oh sure, no of course not,” Lance replied, leaning on the door and keeping a firm grip on the doorknob. “Give me _any_ good reason I should let you in my room? I’ll be waiting,” he said, drawing out his words sarcastically.

A second of silence passed as Lance sensed Keith press against the other side of the door. “Veronica’s looking at me right now and I really don’t want to explain this later,” He whispered. Lance immediately recognized Keith’s situation and allowed him in reluctantly. Now, he definitely did not want to talk to Keith but it would look extremely suspicious as to why he was having a full blown argument with one of his “close friends.” Keith slipped in the door noiselessly and stood off to the side, waiting for Lance to shut the door again. 

“Let me guess, you’re going to give me another one of those ‘I can explain why I ghosted you for the billionth time’ speeches?” Lance huffed, his face flushed. He looked at Keith dart his eyes around at the decor on the walls to avoid eye contact. “Or is this your whole breakup announcement? I mean, there’s no other fucking reason you’d show up to my house unannounced on a Saturday morning,” He continued. 

Keith’s smile turned into a scowl at the other boy’s words. “Typical,” He spat back.

“Typical? Typical?”

“You heard me. Lance, you literally do this shit every time. I’d be somewhere else if I wanted to but I couldn’t just leave this on my conscience. But of course, you being you, I can never explain myself without you cutting me off.” It was obvious Keith was avoiding shouting. After all, this was not his house.

Lance scrubbed his temples and dragged his hands down his cheeks. He tried to look Keith square in the face, but his gaze was too intense and this was not where he wanted to forfeit. “I can’t believe you drove all the way over here to yell at me, to yell at me for something _you_ did.”

“I just said, that I was ready to fucking explain myself and apologize.”

“What use is your goddamn apology if you don’t mean it, you’ll never mean it, Keith.”

“I-”

“No,” Lance breathed. “Dude, you always talk over me, let me get out one damn sentence without you bullshitting me. Like I get it, you're moving schools next year and you want to hang out with your new friends all the time, but that doesn’t mean you can keep ignoring me. You bailed on the last four dates, four! Do you even want to be my boyfriend anymore?” Lance asked, his voice began to break down into an angry rasp. 

“Lance, of course I still want to be with you, but you wouldn’t understand. I don’t actually want to move schools, my mom is getting another job in the city and wants me to go there. It’s some weird private academy, you know that’s not me. She," he paused, "She just wants me to get along with the admin’s kids so I can get the costs paid off. And you know how she gets if I don’t listen,” Keith explained. As much as he wanted to love his mother, she was extremely demanding. If he did not meet her standards he’d get hit. The adolescent tugged at the sleeve of his torn leather jacket. “I wish I had a choice, I wish I could go on all the dates with you, and tell your parents about,” he paused, “About this.” Keith motioned his hand between them for emphasis. 

Lance walked over to his bed and free-fell back onto the mattress, sinking into the blue sheets. He stared at the ceiling, focusing on the glow-in-the-dark stars he put up in elementary school. “Cry me a fucking river. It’s not just the ditching, you just never act like you want to be my boyfriend. Do I always have to do the work here? It’s not my fault that you have the emotional availability of a wall.” Lance exhaled. The walls began to close in on him. His eyes started watering.

“The emotional availability of a- You should’ve just told me if you wanted me to be more affectionate. I admit I’m terrible at that but now that I _know_ then I can do that for you,” Keith sputtered. Lance turned his head to watch Keith run both of his hands through his hair, holding his bangs out of his face. 

Lance groaned and thrashed around in the sheets before sitting back up, rubbing his eyes. “God, you are the biggest narcissist I’ve ever met.”

“Have you ever met yourself? Your head is so far up your fucking ass that I have no clue how you can see. How anyone deals with you is so beyond me since you act like such a self centered bitch all the fucking time,” Keith’s words were sharp and cut through Lance’s ego. 

“That’s not what I meant! What I was going to say before you rudely interrupted me with your unnecessary commentary, is that you’re so fucking narcissistic to think I’m going to take you back after all of this. What, what kind of god do you think you are?” Lance laughed, holding on to a pillow. “How stupid do you think I am? I’m not going to just randomly fall for you again because you say you'll change and you're _okay_ at kissing?” Maybe that was an understatement and Keith is probably the best kisser Lance had ever kissed in his sixteen years of life, but that’s not the point. 

Keith was staring off outside the window, squinting at the brightness. His eyes quickly darted back to his (maybe) ex-boyfriend, “Okay, okay I confess, if this were to go over smoothly I was going to re-ask you to be my date to homecoming tonight, but I guess that’s not the case. It’s fine, I,” he paused again, trying to collect his thoughts. “I just miss you, Lance. I can confess to that can I?” His voice was suddenly composed and stoic. It was the languid voice Lance remembered from their early relationship. 

“Keith, I” Lance started. “Gah! No, what am I doing? Curse my stupid treacherous heart,” he whined, clutching the pillow tighter. “You are so evil, you know that right? Like, I can’t just fall for your stupid sweet nothings all over again. I mean, you clearly know what you’re doing here. Well I’m saying no,” He huffed, burying his flushed face into the shark-print cushion in his arms. 

“Sweet nothings? Dude I’m not trying to do anything like that,” Keith laughed. 

“Evil,” Lance replied. 

“Hey, a guy can miss talking to his boyfriend, er, ex? Whatever. I can do that without sounding pushy can’t I? It’s not my fault you still have something for me,” Keith teased.

“Fuck you.”

“You’d love to do that now wouldn’t you?”

Lance stood up and stretched his back, moving fluidly. He picked up the pillow that was previously entrapped in his arms and threw it at Keith with deadly accuracy. 

“Ow! Lance, what the hell?” He groaned. The flying cushion successfully hit his face, leaving a faint red mark on it. “This is so totally unnecessarily dramatic, _you_ are so unnecessarily dramatic,” Keith’s words were breathless and exasperated.

Lance stood with his arms crossed, eyes closed and nose upturned. The remnants of a scarlet blush tinted the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheekbones. He tried looking aloof, but it was clearly not working. 

Keith stifled a laugh. Naturally, he couldn’t help letting it out a little. “Are you serious?” he giggled. 

“Of course I am,” Lance said, trying not to open his eyes, however tempting it was. “I’m not telling any jokes, Keith.”

The raven-haired boy picked up the pillow and threw it back at Lance. He aimed low, getting his stomach, causing Lance to stumble back over on the bed. 

“What was that for?”

“Payback. And you should see how you looked just then, like, what do you want me to do? Buy you some candy? Wait on you hand and foot, princess Lance?” Keith joked.

Lance’s reaction to that was a mix of embarrassment, anger and helplessly-so-definitely-still-in-love judging by the screech he let out. “You’re such a fucking child. I just want you to take anything I say seriously. God! It’s like I can’t trust you, for such a straight faced guy, you can’t take anything when it comes to me seriously,” He said standing back up and going over to Keith. “You think I look like a toddler, but you’re over here joking with me when you wasted my morning for your bullshit apology.” Lance walked a little closer to Keith. “You do all that, you excuse yourself but never console me and you have these empty promises.” He walked closer still. “But then you do all these things, it’s like you’re tempting me to go back to you. Your dumb laugh, the soft voice you use sometimes, the invite to homecoming, how stupidly bad you are at listening.” Lance was now nearly pressed into Keith’s chest. His watery eyes meeting Keith’s.

“Go ahead,” the other whispered, permitting Lance to continue lamenting. He set one of his hands gently on his shoulder, pressing down so they maintained a respectable distance. 

Lance’s breath hitched and the corners of his mouth pinched before he could continue. “You left me alone at the game yesterday, I even sat all the way at the top of the stadium, I bought an extra drink, everything. I don’t even really like football, but I waited _all_ night for you. I looked so stupid,” Lance began to cry. “I can’t stand you. I hope you know that I hate you. It’s so hard to trust you,” his voice was diminished to a whisper. 

“Then don’t listen to anything I say,” Keith said privately. He pulled Lance into a final embrace, holding him quickly, only until his breathing stilled and left without a trace. The feeling of his hands lingering on Lance’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this rate anything I write is just going to be a little late lmao


	8. 7/9-10/2020 (in all honesty skip this one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for being late a g a i n, but I kept re-writing this chapter and I'm still dissatisfied with it but I need to work on catching up on the next four fics ;w; forgive me.
> 
> tw: not sure honestly
> 
> AU: Altean Lance
> 
> Ship: none, lancelot kind of
> 
> song: https://youtu.be/Cr-SqRWImmI

Song: Oh No, Marina and the Diamonds

_ “If you are not very careful, your possessions will possess you.” _

The crown prince of Altea, bathed in glittering regalia, drowning in luxury. He holds his hands out to the people but offers nothing, and he commands a nation that he knows nothing about. He bears marks unique to those with high magical ability, little do his people know,  _ they’re fake. _

“Advisor,” He muses. Lance extends his hands out as he wait for the servant to come to his side. “What do you need?” He asks begrudgingly. 

“Well, sire, I came to remind you that you have a meeting with the emperor and empress of Daibazaal later. It’s a very important meeting, we are discussing a preemptive alliance between us-”

“Please don’t make me go. Why can we not call on the general to speak on my behalf. It’s war we’re talking aren’t we?” The prince sighed apathetically. He walked over to his vanity and has a seat. He sets his hand on the surface of the table in anticipation for it to retrieve his beauty products.

“Lance, I-I mean your highness,” the advisor laughed nervously, eyes constantly jumping between his reflection and Lance.

“It’s fine, you can call me Lance.”

“ _ Lance _ ,” he corrected. “You must be more accountable for your country. The King, your father, cannot hold out much longer, you need to begin taking initiative as prince so you can fulfill your inevitable destiny,” The advisor states, still nervous around the noble’s presence.

Lance drew a smooth line at the edge of the blue mark at the top of his cheekbone. The line flowed smoothly downwards towards his lips, ending in a curl. He had been taught to do this as a boy.

“You do realize my situation, right?” He laughed. “The King is not even my father. I was a boy off the street from a beggar family, what use is my insight on any alliances. I could care less about them.” Lance continued to decorate and accessorize his body: rings, earrings, necklaces, everything. “But you already knew that so I expect you to shut your mouth about it. Besides, everyone is expecting me to be there at that stupid conference anyway, I have no say in where I can go anyways.” 

“I suppose. I shall leave you to prepare yourself,” The advisor stammered, leaving the room.

Lance completed his routine only to return to staring out the window. Out at the city, the city he barely cared about. Filled with people who kissed the ground he walked on, who believed his touch would heal their sick children. 

He was not allowed to leave this room unless requested, everything he asked for was delivered as a miserable attempt to appease his boredom. There was no value to the expensive toys, fine entertainment, and glittering jewelry any more. No friends, no adolescent romance, nothing, he couldn’t even fantasize about the joy of these experiences any more. Only read about it in literature, and catch glimpses of from during parades. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted these things, just that it was he could’ve had.

This attempt to isolate him was just the Royal family’s attempt to cover their tracks. That is, to console king Alfor for the loss of his daughter, Allura, the Altean government payed Lance’s family to give him to them and stay silent. Naturally, citizens would get suspicious so they claimed that Lance would grow into possessing high magical ability as evident by his marks. Which were of course, fake. The falsehood of his powers however, did not stop him from being subjected to numerous rituals of which were morally questionable.

Night fell as Lance was called from his room to the dining hall. He walked as gracefully as he could, ignoring the rattling of his jewelry. A guard pushed the door open as he stepped in. People lined the sides of the table, talking and eating. At the end sat King Alfor, drinking from an ornate glass filled with nunvil. His eyes looked briefly at the door, making eye contact with Lance. He cleared his throat and lowered the chalice in his hand, the room fell silent.

“Welcome, son,” He said warmly. “Have a seat,” Alfor motioned to a chair between him and one of the Galran representatives. 

“Thank you... _ father _ ,” Lance said formally. As much as the king raised him with a good life, everything he could ask for, the word never sounded right from his mouth. He barely remembers his actual family, but he longed to see them again. Whispers of gossip stirred among the people in the conference as Lance made his way to his seat at the table. He walked formally, and stayed silent, masking his discomfort with this stoic persona. 

He sat beside the king, much like an accessory. He made sure his posture was perfect and his face neutral, he can’t look like the casual country boy he was. That’s what he was taught after all. He watched his father pour the nunvil into his glass and set it by his hand. Alfor gave Lance a look, a cue to speak. 

Lance looked up across the table. His eyes looked blankly at the space behind Zarkon’s head, ignoring his eyes, “Welcome back to Altea, emperor.” He turned his head slightly, “As to you empress Honerva,” He greeted robotically. He smiled at them, but he couldn’t have resented these people more. 

“Why thank you, I must say, you have raised your boy well, Alfor,” Zarkon replied, looking him up and down from his seat.

“Yes, I must say, it’s been quite a few decaphoebs since we last saw him.” Lance’s body tensed at the snaking sounds of Honerva’s voice.

“Well, enough with the formalities, we can begin the negotiation of our current alliance,” Alfor started. “Altea is requesting resources from each nation to sponsor the creation of a new type of weapon that will soon benefit the future of the entire universe.”

And that’s when Lance stopped listening. Listening to the discourse over how many parts need to be commissioned from Olkarion. How many crystals need to be extracted from two separate Balmera. And most importantly, how much ore needed to be mined from the comet embedded into the core of planet Daibazaal. A dangerous balance. The arguing and the discourse and the negotiation talk made no sense to Lance that is until the real reason he needed to be at this meeting arose. 

Alfor finished taking another sip of his drink. “I have discussed this privately with the emperor and empress, and the final agreement between us for the compensation for the mining of the comet’s ore is thirty-five percent of our resources and-” He paused, clearly hesitant. “And to marry my son off to Prince Lotor-”

“I object.”

Gasps filled the room as many of these leaders had never heard Lance speak unless spoken to.

He watched as this hands shook at the edges of the table.  _ Was this a mistake? _ “I-I said that I object to this, I don’t want to be married,” He said, more sure this time. Standing up from his seat. “May I leave, father?” Lance stared at the sea of people, their faces disgusted with his actions. 

“No, sit. My decision is final, you will be escorted over, tonight,” Alfor answered, trying to keep his composure. His hand running through his silver hair stiffly, his body tense. 

“Tonight?”

“Not another word from you, Lance.”

Lance reluctantly sat back in his chair. His head bowed, his entire body shook. He stared down at his manicured hands, as his head spiraled. “ _ Married?” _ he whispered to himself. All his life, he was forced to be complicit to the lifestyle of nobility, no matter how corrupt. His entire life was one big secret that everyone was forced to keep. Sooner or later, the Galra will learn his that his facade is a scam. That he possesses power no higher than that of any Altean and that Alfor pity picked a child from the streets for his beauty. This would destroy the reputation of the entire planet. Lance was used as the pet of the King for all these years only for him to be thrown away for some superweapon. 

And there was nothing he could do.


End file.
